


The Wound

by DreamDragon31



Series: Aftermath [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Stiles, Scott makes a small appearance, Season 5B, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sick Stiles Stilinski, Stiles-centric, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamDragon31/pseuds/DreamDragon31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Sheriff recovers from his wounds caused by the chimera, Stiles neglects his own from Donavan and becomes seriously ill. It is up to his dad and Melissa to figure out why the wound isn't healing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first TW fic that I'm putting up. I hated that Stiles's wound was never really dealt with after 5X09 when he examined it so this was my idea of Stiles ignoring it and it getting worse. Basically, this story is just an excuse to have the Sheriff take care of his son. My favorite relationship is the Stilinski family so all of the stories I'm working on feature that relationship. It takes place after 5X12 but Scott and Stiles haven't made up yet. Please review and let me know what you think!

It was late by the time Sheriff John Stilinski pulled into the driveway of his house. As he parked beside his son’s, Stiles, jeep, a glance at the clock showed that it was a few minutes after midnight. It had been a long day and he was glad to be home. He was also relieved to see Stiles was home. Even on a school night, his son was often late coming home, usually staying out late with Scott and the pack. Though since Donavan and the attack on himself by the other chimera, his son had been spending more and more time by himself. As far as he knew, Stiles and Scott still hadn’t healed the rift between them despite his and Melissa’s efforts.

John entered and hung his keys on the hook besides his son’s keys. A light in the kitchen had been left on but the rest of the house was dark and quiet. He wandered into the kitchen and saw the plate of chicken and vegetables Stiles had left for him. Ever since his attack, the teen had worked almost overtime to ensure his father ate right and got plenty of rest. With a soft smile for his son’s efforts, he heated up the plate, then settled at the table to eat. When he finished, his put his plate in the dishwasher and then turned off the lights in the kitchen. He made sure all the doors were locked and the security system turned on. Then, he walked up the stairs to check on his son.

Stiles’s bedroom door was shut against the hallway light Stiles had more than likely left on for him. He quietly knocked on the door, not wanting to wake his son. When there was no answer, he slowly pushed the door open and peered into the room.

“Stiles?”

The light on his bedside table was on, casting a small amount of light around the room. Stiles was stretched out on his bed, sound asleep. An open textbook lay next to his right side while a notebook and a pen were tucked between his arm and body on his left. He was wearing a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt. His breathing was light and even.

John stepped into the room and gently removed the pen from his hand and the notebook from between his arm and his body. Then he leaned over and picked up the textbook, sliding the notebook to mark the page before putting both on his desk. Then, he crossed back over to his son’s bed and knelt beside it, watching his son sleep. Though Stiles tried to hide it from him, John knew that Stiles wasn’t sleeping well if at all. He had seen the dark circles under his eyes and more often than not heard him rummaging around his room late at night when the teen should be sleeping. He also knew about the nightmares about Donovan that disrupted the little sleep Stiles did get and tried so hard to hide from him.

John reached out and swept back some of the hair that had fallen against Stiles’s forehead, frowning when he felt the warmth there. He gently shook his shoulder. Stiles groaned and pressed his head into his pillow before blinking sleepily at his father.

“Dad?” he asked blearily. “What’s wrong? Who got hurt?”

“Nothing’s wrong, kiddo. Relax, everyone’s fine,” John said softly. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay. You feel a little warm.”

“Oh,” Stiles rolled over onto his side. “I’m fine, just tired.”

John admittedly didn’t believe him but he let him be as Stiles was already falling back asleep. He gently rubbed his shoulder again. “Why don’t you get under the covers and go back to sleep?”

Stiles hummed and cracked a lazy eye open. “I thought I was?”

John rolled his eyes. “No, kiddo. You fell asleep studying.”

“Oh.” Stiles pushed himself up on his hands and pawed at his blankets. John sighed and helped push them back and Stiles slid under them, collapsing onto his stomach and pressing his face into his pillow. His dad folded the blankets over him and rubbed his back for a second before standing. Stiles had already fallen back asleep. He stood and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. For a second, John stood and watched the silhouette of his son before deciding to check him in the morning to see if he was running a fever. Stiles had a habit of hiding it when he was sick or hurt because he didn’t want anyone to worry about him. Tired and still healing from his own injuries himself, John turned and went to his own bedroom, shutting Stiles’s door, promising himself that he would have a talk with his son. With everything that had happened recently, he was really beginning to worry about him.

 

* * * 

 

Stiles woke up long before his alarm went off the next morning. He had actually slept fairly well after his dad had woken him up, but around 4 o’clock that morning, he woke up from a pretty graphic nightmare of Donovan and the library that had him sprinting to the bathroom. Luckily, he didn’t wake up his father while he threw up, but after he had finally dragged himself back to his bed, he had been unable to fall back asleep.

Groaning, he glanced at his clock and saw he had five minutes before the alarm went off. He flicked it off and sat up. He might as well get up now. Maybe then he could avoid interrogations from his dad he knew were coming. He loved his dad but the older man had already been through so much with the attack from the chimera and finding out his son had killed someone, the last thing Stiles wanted to add to that burden was the fact that he wasn’t feeling good. John was already worried if last night was any indication.

Stiles stood up and almost immediately fell back on his bed, feeling dizzy. “Come on, Stiles. Get it together.”

He wanted to get up and out before his dad. Before the questions about how he was feeling started. If his dad knew how crappy he felt, he would worry about Stiles more and right now that was the last thing he needed. He closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing. When he opened them, the room was no longer spinning and he was able to make it to his bathroom. After a shower and brushing his teeth, he felt a little better. For breakfast, he toasted some bread and was out the door before he heard his father move about his bedroom.

Stiles managed to make it to school without his breakfast coming back up which he considered a win. He took a minute to gather his strength and push down the nausea that was rising in his throat. Finally, he got out his jeep and headed into school. He needed to make a stop at his locker before heading to his first class. He was halfway there when he spotted Scott coming down the hall, looking at him like he wanted to talk. Stiles ducked into the nearby bathroom quickly which set off his stomach. The next minute he was hunched over vomiting the little breakfast he had eaten into the toilet. He spit into the toilet and set back against the wall, breathing heavily. He hunched forward when the unhealed bite from Donovan sent a hot shot of pain down his back.

“Stiles?” 

Stiles sighed deeply and rubbed his hand over his sweaty face. The last thing he wanted was to see Scott. He was still angry, still hurt over Scott trusting Theo over him and nearly getting his dad killed.Plus, Scott would probably be able to tell right off the bat that he wasn’t feeling well and he wanted to keep that to himself thank you very much. He stood and flushed the toilet before stepping out of the cubicle.

He glanced at Scott before going to wash his hands. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Something smells off,” Scott pressed. 

Stiles glanced up and looked at the other teen in the mirror. He shook his hands and turned to face him. “I’m fine.”

He brushed past the werewolf and hurried out into the hall. With a sigh, he took his seat in economics and rubbed his face again. Throwing up had made his headache hurt worse and Scoot was in this class as well which made avoiding him hard. Sure enough, Scott slid down into the seat beside him and glanced at him worriedly while Stiles made every effort to avoid looking at him. Thankfully, the bell rang and Stiles could focus on trying to pay attention around his pounding head. He escaped the class as quickly as he could before Scott could catch him again before he would have to head to his separate second period.

Stiles entered his second period and glanced at his phone when he felt it vibrate. It was a text from his dad making sure he was okay. He sent off a quick reply reassuring his dad that he was fine, then ignored a text from Scott begging them to talk. Instead, he pulled out his book and notebook and tried to concentrate.

By the end of his fourth period, Stiles was beginning to wish he had stayed home. His head continued to hurt worse the longer the day went on. He had thrown up two more times, once between his classes and the second he had to be excused from his class. His shoulder was hurting worse and worse to the point he could barely lift his arm without pain shooting through it. He was at his locker before fifth period when Scott finally caught up with him.

“Stiles?” Scott asked timidly. 

Stiles only looked at him tiredly in response. He didn’t have the energy to do anything else. He turned back to switching out his books without a response.

“Stiles, come on. Talk to me,” Scott said, softly. “I know you’re not feeling well. What happened? Is your dad doing okay?”

“I’m fine. He’s fine. We’re all fine,” Stiles answered shortly.

Scott frowned. "You're not fine."

Stiles, tired and irritable, slammed his locker shut. "I'm fine. I just want to get through the the day."

He turned to leave, but stopped suddenly. The world had started spinning again and he reached a hand out to balance himself against the lockers. His vision darkened and he felt himself begin to fall stopped only by an arm wrapping around his waist.

"Stiles?!" Scott asked frantically. "Stiles!"

The teen forced his eyes open and tried to push himself off the other teen, but he suddenly had no strength left in him. In fact, the darkness was calling him further and he almost completely succumbed to it. Vaguely, he was aware of Scott pulling him through the hall. He forced his eyes open to see where he was being dragged. He tried to protest when he saw the nurse's office come into view. 

"No. Stop, Scott," he said weakly. "I'm fine."

"No you're not. You're sick and hurt. You need to go home."

Stiles somehow managed to dig in his heels and force them to stop. "Fine. I'll go home. Just let me go and I'll sign myself out."

He tried to pull himself out of Scott's arms but ended up sliding down the wall instead. Scott knelt in front of him. "Stiles, you're in no condition to drive. Please let me take you to the nurse. She'll call your dad and he can come get you."

"No! Scott, no," Stiles snapped. "Why can't you let it go?"

"Because despite what you believe, you're still my best friend. I still care about you and I won't let you drive yourself home only to get in a wreck because you faint or something." Scott sighed. "Why don't you want your dad to come get you?"

Stiles looked away and refused to answer. They had been been friends for too long. Of course, Scott would figure out why he didn't want to go to the nurse's office. Scott sighed. He had felt the pain leech out of Stiles the moment he touched him. He knew Stiles was in far more pain than he was letting him know and the heat radiating off of him was alarming. Ideally, he wanted to drag him straight to his mom at the hospital but Stiles was proving to be more stubborn than even he could imagine. He knew that the other teen didn’t trust him anymore. He wouldn’t go with Scott anywhere. The best he could do was get him to the nurse’s office and let the Sheriff deal with him.

“Come on, Stiles,” he said, reaching over and helping the teen stand. He hated using his werewolf strength on his estranged best friend but he had to to get him into the nurse’s office. He deposited him on one of the beds and turned to the nurse who had risen when they came through the door. “Stiles got sick and he’s too dizzy to drive himself home.”

“I’m fine. Really. Just got a little dizzy.” Stiles shot him a dirty look and tried to stand. A fierce wave of dizziness hit him and he fell backwards onto the bed.

The nurse nodded. “Obviously. Thank you, Scott. I’ll call his dad to come and get him.”

She ushered him out while Stiles continued to give him a dirty look. Scott for his part shot him an apologetic look before the door closed behind him. The nurse turned back to the teen who was sitting on the bed, his head in his hands. 

“Why don’t you lay down for awhile, Stiles? I’ll call your dad to come get you,” she said gently.

Stiles looked up and sighed defeatedly. He nodded slowly, then stopped when it only made the pounding in his head hurt more. He sank onto the bed and rolled onto his side away from the nurse’s desk so the pressure was off his shoulder. He felt embarrassed and angry. Angry at Scott for interfering, angry at the nurse for calling his dad. Most of all, he was angry at himself for letting it go this far. He was just so angry. He wiped at a tear that fell down his cheek and closed his eyes tightly. He tried to even out his breathing while he listened to the nurse call his father.

Stiles dozed off because the next thing he knew, there was a soft hand on his wounded shoulder. He opened his eyes and rolled over to look at his father.

“Hey kiddo,” John said gently. “Not feeling so good?”

Stiles sighed and sat up. “Sorry, Dad.”

“Hey, for what? For getting sick?” John was concerned. “It happens, kid. Come on. Let’s get you home and get you taken care of.”

Stiles nodded reluctantly and pushed himself up. He swayed dangerously when he stood but John wrapped an arm around his waist to balance him. The Sheriff nodded his thanks at the nurse and helped his son out of the room. The hallway was deserted which meant class was in session. It also meant that Stiles was spared the embarrassment of being seen being helped out the school. They were halfway down the hall when he suddenly stopped.

“Wait, my bag.” He looked around. “I dropped my bag when Scott made me go to the Nurse’s office.”

John held up his other hand. “I have it, Stiles. Scott grabbed it when he said you fainted.”

Stiles sighed. “I didn’t faint. I just got a little dizzy. What about the jeep?”

“It’s okay. Scott said he would drive it back to the house after school.” John reached for his son again and Stiles leaned against him. “It’s alright, kiddo. Everything’s taken care of.”

Stiles let him lead him out the school and to his car. He slid into the seat and buckled while John walked to the driver’s side. As the car pulled out the parking lot, Stiles leaned over and rested his head against the cool glass.

John pulled into the road and glanced over at his son. “Stiles? Talk to me. How are you feeling?”

Stiles lifted his heavy head and looked over at his dad. He thought about downplaying his illness and his pain but he was tired. Tired of being strong, having to pretend that he didn’t need anyone to take care of him. Donovan, Theo, the Dread Doctors, the dead pool, the Nogitsune. It was never ending. He was just so tired.

“Like crap. My head hurts,” he said softly. He laid his head back against the window. “My shoulder hurts. Like really hurts.”

“Your shoulder? What happened to your shoulder?”

“Hm?” Stiles had his eyes closed and desperately just wanted to go to sleep. “Donovan. He was a chimera. Had a mouth on his hand.”

The Sheriff pulled to a stop at a red light and looked over at his son. “He bit you? You didn’t tell me he hurt you!”

“Didn’t seem important.”

“Stiles, that was three weeks ago. It should have started healing by then.” He paused as the light turned green he started moving again. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

Stiles lifted his head and squinted. After a moment, he shrugged. The pain had been getting progressively worse but he had pushed it aside as his dad healed. “I don’t know. A few days, maybe longer?”

They pulled to another stop and John looked closely at his son. Stiles was pale, had dark circles under his eyes, and two pink spots on his cheeks. His eyes were glazed and it looked like sweat dotted his forehead. When the light turned green, he made a decision. At the next light, he turned left instead of going straight. Stiles looked at him confused.

“Dad, where are we going? Home is the other way.”

“We’re going to hospital,” John said. “I want to get the shoulder looked at and you felt awfully warm in the nurse’s office.”

“Dad, I’m fine.” Stiles seriously hated the hospital. He had spent too much time in it in his life and he had little desire to go back. “I just want to go home and sleep for like a week.”

“And you can. As soon as I’m convinced that your shoulder is fine.” He glanced over at his son who had slumped over and was looking at his hands. “Kid, it may be infected and that’s why you’re feeling so lousy. I want to be sure you’re okay before I take you home to sleep, okay?”

Stiles pouted and laid back against the window. He knew from that tone there would be no arguing with his father at this point. He let his eyes drift close and relaxed into the seat. The next thing he knew was the car was rolling to a stop and the car turned off. He opened his eyes and looked John who was unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Come on, Stiles,” he said gently. “The faster we get you looked at, the faster you can go home and sleep for a week.”

Stiles sighed and moved to get out of the car. As he shut the door behind him, the world tilted and spun again. He reached out and leaned heavily against the side of the car before he felt his dad wrap an arm around his waist. With his help, Stiles managed to make it into the entrance where Melissa spotted them from the nurse’s station.

“John? Stiles? What is it?” she asked. The nurse got a good look at the teen who was like a second son. “What’s wrong, Stiles?”

“Donovan bit him, Melissa,” he whispered, then in a louder voice. “I think it’s infected.”

Stiles’s knees gave out just then and he would have fallen to the ground had John’s arms not been around his waist. 

“Whoa, kid,” he said softly, tightening his grip.

Melissa motioned for the pair to follow her and she led them to an examination room. John helped his son up onto the bed then stepped back to let the nurse close. She quickly examined the teen, checking his pulse and fever and making a note of them. Finally, she moved in front of him so he could focus his aching eyes on her.

“Okay, kiddo, where does it hurt?”

Stiles swallowed down the wave of nausea that had hit him and whispered “My head, my stomach. My shoulder hurts the worst.”

“Okay. Which shoulder?”

His hand came up to his right one and his fingers massaged it, then he hissed as pain rocketed through him. The nausea returned in full force and he pitched forward. Melissa saw his face and grabbed the nearby trashcan just in time. Stiles vomited into it, throwing up only bile before dry heaving. When he stopped, he had tears rolling down his cheeks from the pain the retching had caused him. Melissa set the trashcan aside and moved back to Stiles’s side. When he saw Stiles sway, John who had standing next to the bed pulled Stiles to his shoulder so his son could lean against him. The nurse gently helped his out of his plaid shirt and pulled down the collar of his t-shirt.

“Oh, Stiles,” she gasped. 

The bite mark itself had taken a large chuck of skin out surrounded by two circles of smaller marks. The wound was red and inflamed, filled with yellow pus and blood. The skin around it was puffy and it looked like it hadn’t healed at all. Melissa gently probed it and the teen hissed while trying to move away from her. John easily prevented him from moving too far.

“We need to get this cleaned out and get you on some antibiotics. Now,” the nurse said.

Stiles shook his head against his dad’s shoulder. “Just wanna go home.”

Melissa gently rubbed his back. “I know, sweetie. But this is pretty bad. Let me get Dr. Geyer in here to look at it and we’ll see what he says, okay?”

She motioned for John to follow her to the hallway. “He’s probably going to need to stay here at least the night.”

The Sheriff sighed. “I figured that. He’s so hot and he looks like he’s in so much pain.”

“John, what happened? You said Donovan bit him? That’s no normal bite mark.”

He rubbed a tired hand over his face and nodded. “Yeah, the night he attacked Stiles. Apparently, he was turned into a chimera. He had a mouth on his hand. God, that sounds ridiculous, even now.”

“A lot in our lives sounds ridiculous. It’s badly infected. Go try to keep him calm and awake and I’ll go grab the doctor. We need to get it cleaned out now before he gets blood poisoning.”

John nodded as the nurse hurried off. When he re-entered the room, Stiles was hunched over with his head in his hands. He looked up as his dad entered.

“I’m sorry, dad,” he whispered hoarsely.

John approached his son, stopping front of him. “For what, kiddo?”

“For making you worry. For making everything worse.”

“Stiles,” he started, confused and really worried now. “What are you talking about? You have never made anything worse. Never. And this injury is not your fault.”

“I don’t feel so good,” Stiles whispered, looking back at the ground and not replying to his dad’s response. He rubbed the back of his hand at his eyes.

John pulled his son to his shoulder and wrapped on arm gently around his shoulders. “I know. I know. We’re going to get you taken care of, I promise.”

They remained like that until the door opened a few minutes later and Melissa returned with Dr. Geyer behind her.

“Hello, Stiles, Sheriff,” the doctor greeted them. “Melissa tells me that you have an injury that’s making you feel sick?”

Stiles only blinked at him from his dad’s shoulder. It was John who answered. “It looks like he was bitten by some kind of animal. I don’t know how long he’s been feeling sick from it though.”

The doctor nodded. “Alright, well, let’s have a look then and see if we can help with that.”

John stepped to the side so Melissa and Geyer could get closer to Stiles, much to his displeasure as Stiles was forced to sit up. Melissa helped him remove his t-shirt and he sat shivering on the table as the doctor put on gloves, then turned toward his patient.

“This does look pretty bad,” he said after a moment of probing gently at it. He pushed a particular tender spot and Stiles cried out. “Okay, we need to open this and drain it and clean it properly.”

Geyer turned toward John. “We’ll give him some painkillers before we clean it because it will be painful. He’s running a pretty high fever of 103.6 and Melissa told me he’s been sick.”

“Yes, a few minutes ago, when Melissa was examining the wound.”

“Was that the first time?”

John went silent and looked at his son. It took a couple of minutes for Stiles to realize they were looking at him and he slowly lifted his head. “What?”

“Stiles, was earlier the first time you’ve thrown up?” Melissa asked softly.

Stiles blinked slowly and shook his head. “No. I did today at school.” He closed his eyes trying to remember. “I threw up before class started, then two more times before Scott found me.”

“Okay,” the doctor said thoughtfully. “Stiles, I know the one thing you really want to do is go home and sleep, but I want to keep you here overnight. I want to monitor your illness and the wound. Make sure the antibiotics are doing their job.”

Stiles looked like he wanted to protest but John cut him off. “Okay. That’s fine by me.”

Stiles sighed and resigned himself to staying at the hospital, instead of getting to collapse in his warm, familiar bed. John rubbed the back of his head reassuringly. 

“It’ll be okay, kid. It’s for the best.”

The doctor walked his father out of the room to fill out paperwork and allow Melissa to help the ill teen into a gown. She was gentle as she tied the gown in the back, leaving the top part undone so they could work on his bite wound. Then, the nurse helped him off the bed and turned her back respectfully so he could remove his shoes and jeans. When he was done, she helped him back up on the bed this time letting him lay down on his side. Stiles sank his aching, heavy head gratefully onto the pillow and sighed as Geyer walked back in. He said something low to Melissa before moving to Stiles’s line of view.

“Alright, Stiles. What we are going to do is start you on an I.V. with a pretty heavy painkiller. Opening your wound and draining it is going to be painful but with this medication, hopefully you won’t feel anything,” he said, gently. “It will more than likely make you sleepy. It's okay to go to sleep. You need the rest. After we clean it out and get it stitched up, we’ll get you settled into a room and your dad can stay with you, alright?”

Stiles nodded tiredly. Geyer stood to make room for Melissa. She untangled some tubing and smiled gently as he watched her.

“I know you hate needles, sweetie,” she said. “But it will be quick, I promise.”

True to her word, she pulled one his hands from where he had tucked them under the pillow and quickly inserted the needle into the top of his hand. Then, she attached the I.V. to the needle and a cool rush of liquid flowed into his veins. Almost immediately, the pain began to subside and he sighed in relief. Melissa smiled softly.

“Get some sleep, kiddo,” she whispered. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Stiles only looked at her sleepily. Now that the pain was no longer as prevalent, the exhaustion made itself more known. He could no longer keep his eyes open and let them close. As sleep carried him away, he was distantly aware of a towel being pressed against his back and a paper being spread around him. He was asleep before he felt the first press of pressure on his shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Stiles became aware of was the pain. His shoulder was starting to ache again. He wanted to go back to sleep but the pain was slowly becoming unbearable. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open. It took a couple of times before he could manage to open them even halfway. When he could finally get them to focus, he looked around trying to get a handle on where he was. He was lying on his side, blankets pulled up to his waist. In his direct line of sight were various machines that beeped and displayed numbers that in his tired state Stiles couldn’t decipher. Just beyond the machines there was a window with the blinds shut tightly. He could tell it was dark outside even with the blinds shut. He gaze wandered over to his dad sitting in a chair beside his bedside reading a newspaper.

“Dad,” he croaked.

John lowered his paper and when he saw his son was awake, he set it aside. “Hey, kid, how are you feeling?” He stood to get closer to his son’s beside and laid a cool hand against his hot forehead. Stiles turned his head into it. It felt so good.

“Awful,” the teen muttered.

“You’re still burning up,” John said slightly confused. He ran his hands through his hair. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Hurts. What time is it? How long have I been asleep?” Stiles asked, bending to look over his shoulder so he could see around the room further. He was in a private room and the door was shut. The overhead lights were off but the lamp beside his bed was on so his dad could read. He rolled back and rubbed his itchy chest. It took him a second to realize it itched due to the heart monitors attached to his chest. The I.V. was still in his hand and a nasal cannula was pushing cool, clean air into his nose.

John reached over and gently took his hand so he wouldn’t rub the monitors off. “It’s almost nine. Melissa said you finally fell asleep a little after one. It took them about an hour to drain your shoulder.”

“Oh. Can we go home now?”

“Sorry, kiddo,” John said sympathetically. “The doctor is pretty adamant you stay the night and I’m willing to agree if your shoulder is still hurting which the look on your face tells me it is.” 

Stiles sighed and curled up a little tighter. It was worth a shot but now he was starting to see benefits in not moving. The room was tilting, the nausea had returned, and the pain made moving his shoulder next to impossible. His eyes fluttered shut and he felt his dad’s hand comb through his hair and gently massaging his scalp. It was something his dad had been doing for as long as he could remember whenever he was sick or suffering from a bad headache.

“Go back to sleep, Stiles,” John whispered. The teen attempted to stay awake but his illness combined with the gentle massage on his head helped drag him back under. All he managed was a light “hm” before he fell back asleep.

As the night wore on, Stiles’s sleep was far from restful. Nightmares and dreams plagued his rest, causing him to toss and turn often onto his injured shoulder. The pain from the pressure would cause him to wake up multiple times throughout the night. A couple of times, the pain would be so bad Stiles woke up crying. His dad remained by his side the entire night, helping him back on his side when he rolled onto his back and comforting him with gentle words and cool, wet clothes on his forehead. In the early morning hours, Stiles’s fever spiked and he began to mutter about werewolves and kitsunes and murder. John managed to shush him before a doctor came in thankfully.

By midmorning, both Stiles and John were exhausted. Stiles had gone quiet, awake and staring listlessly at the window and curled up into a ball on the bed. John sat slumped into the chair, watching his son and hoping he would finally fall asleep. Melissa, who had been off last night, quietly knocked on the door and entered. 

She took one look at the pair and said gently “Rough night?”

“Yeah,” John said as he stood and stretched. He approached her and whispered, “He had nightmares all night and kept rolling onto his shoulder. His fever spiked a few hours ago, but it seems to have come down a little since then.” 

The nurse nodded. “Yeah, the night nurse told me. She said they gave him another round of antibiotics.”

He nodded. “But he still couldn’t fall asleep. He tried but just couldn’t seem to settle. He’s exhausted, Melissa. And in pain. I though draining the wound would help? Isn’t there anything we can do for him?”

“Draining should have helped his shoulder. The infection will take a little time though for his body to fight off once the contagion is removed out.” She looked at the lump on the bed. “Dr. Geyer won’t be in for another hour but let me look at him and see if we can at least ease some of his discomfort until then.”

John gave her a tired smiled and stepped aside. Melissa walked around the bed and gently placed a hand on Stiles’s forehead.

“Hey, kiddo,” she said softly. He dragged his eyes from the blinds up to hers. “Still not feeling well?”

He didn’t answer, instead just pulled his body in closer. Melissa took his vitals and sighed when she saw his fever. Before she had left the night before, his fever had come down to a low 102 but it was now back up to 103.5. Next, she gently untied the top of his hospital gown and peeled off the bandage around the bite mark. Stiles whimpered and tried to move further away from her but was stopped by John who had moved to replace the nurse by the Stiles’s head. He ran his hands over his son’s sweaty head and shushed him quietly.

“Dammit,” Melissa whispered. The wound was puffy again, filled with blood and pus. The skin around it was extremely red and looked painful. John looked at her and she gave him a grim looked. “It’s filled again. We will need to drain it again.”

She folded the bandage back over the wound. “I’ll give him a mild painkiller and talk to Dr. Geyer the moment he walks in, okay?”

John nodded and ran his hand through Stiles’s dark, damp hair. The teen blinked up at his dad with fever gazed eyes.

“Don’t feel good. Hurts,” he croaked out.

“I know, kiddo,” John whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I know. Melissa is going to take care of it, okay?”

A few minutes later, Melissa walked back in with a needle in her hand. She smiled gently at Stiles and he moved his hand so she had better access to it. She injected the medicine directly into the I.V. and tucked his hand back against him.

“That should take some of the edge of until the doctor gets here okay? Just rest until then.” She rubbed his arm comfortingly and pulled the blankets up to his chest. She looked up at John who was watching worriedly. “I’ll make Stiles the first stop for Geyer.”

She left as the sheriff sat on the side of the bed and tiredly ran his hand over his face. Stiles was watching him silently and he managed a soft smile.

“It’s okay. Probably just needs to be cleaned again.” John reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Stiles shook his head as little as he can. “Can’t. He’s there every time I close my eyes.”

John reached for his son’s hand. “He can’t hurt you, kiddo. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He squeezed the trembling hand in his own. “I know you’re tired, Stiles. It’s okay to get some rest.”

Still holding onto his hand, he leaned over and began to stroke his son’s forehead and hair again. This time he used his thumb to massage the teen’s sweat soaked temple. The movement worked. Stiles closed his eyes and seemed to relax into the pillow. He wasn’t completely asleep but dozed under his father’s ministrations. He was still dozing lightly when Melissa and Dr. Geyer came in. He opened his eyes to slits and looked at the two vaguely.

The doctor smiled warmly at the ill teen. “Good morning, Stiles,” he greeted. “Melissa told me your injury is swollen again and pretty painful right now? Let’s have a look.”

The nurse went to Stiles’s front and Geyer gently pulled back his hospital gown back. He slowly removed the bandage while Melissa kept him still. The doctor let out a deep sigh and ordered Melissa to get the supplies to drain the wound.

“Sheriff, you do not have to stay if you wish. Draining a wound like this is not easy to watch. Especially when it’s your son.”

“I’ll stay,” John said quickly. “I want to be here for Stiles.”

The teen dragged his tired eyes up to look at his father and looked like for a second he was going to protest but instead, reached for his hand. The doctor nodded his acquiesce. His patient was already stressed and tired and ill. Having his dad with him might make the process go so much easier. Melissa returned with towels and protective sheets as well as towels and bandages. She also had a syringe in her hand that Stiles eyed warily. Seeing his look, she smiled tenderly.

“A stronger painkiller like last time. There’s no reason you should be awake for this,” she said, as she injected the liquid into his I.V.

Stiles sighed in relief. This was different than the painkiller they had given him last night. This one was better and faster and he could feel the effects immediately. He closed his eyes, sinking into the pillow. John squeezed his hand and the teen felt himself drift off, only vaguely aware of everything happening around him.

John moved to the head of the bed to remain out of the way of the doctor and the nurse. He had laid Stiles’s hand back on the bed but kept a hand on his head for reassurance. The nurse and doctor moved Stiles to his stomach for easier tending to. He winced when Geyer after donning gloves used a knife to cut open the stitches they had put into place. The wound opened and blood and pus began to leak out. Melissa helped wipe at the fluids keeping the area clean as Geyer pressed and poured water over the wound. The pair worked for over an hour, pressing on the wound and cleaning inside it before it leaked only blood. Geyer then cleaned it thoroughly before putting antiseptic on it and stitching it closed once more. Melissa then bandaged it tightly. As she cleared the supplies away, Geyer motioned for John to join him at the door.

“I’m going to have Melissa get some orderlies to come and bathe Stiles and get the bed changed and clean as well,” he started. “It’ll probably take a couple of hours and Stiles will sleep for several hours yet due to the medication we gave him. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

John sighed. He didn’t want to leave his son alone but Melissa would be here and he was tired. He looked over at his son for a minute before agreeing.

“Okay. I’ll go get some rest and something to eat while he sleeps.”

The doctor smiled reassuringly. “I know it’s hard to leave your child when he’s ill but it won’t do him much good for you to end up back in the hospital yourself. Stiles will be fine. After he’s clean, I’m going to order a stronger antibiotic and he should sleep until late this afternoon.”

John agreed and then ducked back into the room where Melissa was rolling down Stiles’s blankets. He leaned over and kissed his son’s forehead. Stiles shifted slightly under his touch and he shushed him. “I’ll be back, kiddo. Just sleep and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Melissa squeezed his arm comfortingly. “He’ll be okay. I’ll check on him throughout the day.”

John smiled his thanks and with one final brush over his boy’s hair he walked out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

It was nearly five before John opened the door to Stiles’s dark, quiet hospital room. His boy was curled up on his side, off of his shoulder and was still sound asleep. He entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him and walked around the side of the bed and observed the teen. Stiles was pale, almost blending into the pillow underneath him. The dark circles were still prominent under his eyes and two pink splotches highlighted his cheeks. There were lines of pain in the corner of eyes but he at least seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

John pulled the blankets up further his son’s chest and squeezed one of his hands resting on the bed. He was settling into the chair next to the hospital bed when the door opened. The Sheriff smiled at Melissa when she walked in.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I saw you walk in and wanted to check on our patient.”

“He seems to be okay. Still asleep,” he responded looking back over at the teen.

The nurse walked around the bed and looked at the monitors attacked to Stiles. “Yeah. He’s been sleeping all day. He only woke once or twice but went right back to sleep without any issue. I doubt he’ll even remember waking up.”

“Did he say anything?” John asked worriedly. He hadn’t wanted to leave his son alone and wanted to be here when the teen had woken.

Melissa shook her head. “No, just looked around and went right back to sleep. Don’t worry, John. I’m not even sure he was actually awake.”

“How was he today, health wise?”

“Better. His fever came down again and all his vitals were strong and steady.” She checked the readings and marked them on Stiles’s chart before taking his temperature and his pulse. She pursed her lips for a second but the father caught it.

“What? What is it?” The concern was evident in his voice and he reached out for Stiles’s hand.

“His fever has come up a little since the last time I checked it,” Melissa said. “We will have to keep an eye on it throughout the night.”

“I don’t understand,” John said, eyes on his son’s face. “Does that mean he’s not getting better? The wound isn’t healing?”

“John, relax,” Melissa stepped in to his worried questioning. “Often during the day, a fever can go up and down. It’s likely nothing but because of how sick he has been, we’ll keep a close eye on it, okay?”

He nodded reluctantly and settled into the seat. He felt a little better having actually slept for several hours and after eating some food though it was decidedly unhealthy but he would let Stiles yell at him for it when he was feeling better. For the next hour, he kept an eye out for any indication his son was waking up. Stiles shifted a little but seemed to be deeply asleep. However, as the sun set and night came on, it was obvious that the fever was climbing again. His son was starting to sweat again and whimpered from pain every now and then. Melissa came in every hour to check and after eight, she sighed.

“103.5 again,” she said when John looked at her concerned. She moved the blankets down and undid the bandage covering the wound. “Something’s not right. It should be healing but it looks like we haven’t even touched it.”

John stood, concerned for his boy. “What does that mean? Is he not getting better?”

Melissa shook her head. She folded the bandage back over. “I need to talk to Dr. Geyer. We may need to go in deeper.” 

“What do you mean? Melissa, what’s wrong with my boy?” The Sheriff was getting agitated and Stiles, sensing the shift in the room, moved on the bed, mouth parting and a light moan escaping.

Melissa gestured for him to follow her out into the hallway. “If his wound is filling again, there is something that is not flushing out. Dirt, a piece of wood, something that is too deep to be washed out. I’m going to talk to Dr. Geyer. Look at me. I promise, we will take care of Stiles. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

He sighed and rubbed his face. “Something already has. I wasn’t there for him. Damn, Melissa, he hid this from me for almost a month. I knew something was off and I ignored it. I knew Theo was giving me some bullshit story and I didn’t go straight to him.”

Melissa pulled him into a hug. “John, what happened wasn’t your fault just like it wasn’t Stiles’s, okay? You didn’t know what had happened and for as open as Stiles projects himself to be, the boy knows how to keep a secret. Especially if it’s something he blames himself for.”

“I just want to protect him. He’s my son.”

“I know, but maybe he doesn’t.” She pulled back. “Maybe he needs reminding that for all he does worry about losing you, you worry just as much about losing him.”

John closed his eyes at her words. Melissa was right. Stiles had spent years taking care of him because there was a deep seated fear about losing him like he had lost his mother. Stiles had loved her so much even when the dementia had her in its grasp and she couldn’t even tell if he was her son. God, that was a memory he didn’t need reliving right now. He wondered if Stiles even remembered that incident. The next day, he had acted like he had no memory of his mom attacking him and neither of them had ever mentioned it again. He had done his best with his son but maybe he had forgotten in the past couple of years to remind Stiles that he would always be there for him and to protect him.

He looked at the nurse who had done her best to care for Stiles the way he did for Scott after McCall had left and nodded. She gave a small smile. “Good. Now, I’ll be back. Geyer and I are both working late tonight. Let me go see if I can hunt him down and talk to him about Stiles.”

John was grateful for her take charge attitude and when she walked down the hall, he went back to his son’s bedside. Stiles was shifting around. He ran his hands over the teen's hair. The gesture settled him and he curled closer into himself. The little family remained like that for awhile before the door opened, admitting Geyer and Melissa.

The doctor nodded a greeting to the Sheriff and went immediately to Stiles's shoulder. He let out a long breath when he pulled down the bandage.

"You're right, Melissa," he said. "This just isn't healing the way it should be. There's something still inside the wound, poisoning it." Geyer recovered the wound and looked at John. "Sheriff, I think we are going to have to take a different approach to get this wound healing properly."

"What are you thinking? How can we help Stiles get better?"

Geyer looked over at the machines and took note of the vitals being monitored. "We need to cut into the wound and get into it deeper. I know it sounds counterproductive but there is something stuck in his wound that is not allowing it to heal. It's almost like the blood poisoning you yourself was suffering from."

"How can you get it cleaned out?" John reached for Stiles's hand and squeezed it.

"It will be basically minor surgery. We'll put him under anesthesia, then cut the wound open. From there we can clean and search for the hidden contagion deeper into his body. Hopefully, it's only right there beneath the surface, but I will warn you, it will take time and it could be as far down as his muscle."

It took only a moment before John nodded. "Okay. Whatever you have to do, okay."

The doctor turned to Melissa and told her to schedule Stiles for first thing in the morning. "The sooner we do this, the better." He turned to John. "Though I doubt he'll be hungry, Stiles is not to have anything to eat or drink within eight hours of the procedure. Melissa will let you know exactly when that is. Any questions?"

"Will you be doing the procedure?" the Sheriff asked after a moment. Right now he trusted very few people and Melissa and Geyer were trying everything they could to help his son.

"I will. I'm here until mid-morning tomorrow," Geyer reassured him. "We will make sure he has the procedure long before then."

John sighed and nodded while the doctor and Melissa left. He turned his eyes to Stiles who had slept through the entire conversation. He just wanted his son to get better. It had been a rough few weeks for the teen. He needed a break.

It wasn't long before Stiles began to move and mutter in his sleep. When his eyes finally opened, John leaned forward for his son to see him. Stiles's eyes were glazed and slightly unfocused but he looked at his father and managed a small smile.

"Hey, Dad," he whispered.

"Hey kid," John returned. He squeezed his son's clammy hand. "How are you feeling?" Stiles grimaced and his dad took that as his answer.

The teen swallowed hard. "Why am I not getting any better? I would have thought the draining would have helped."

"There's been a complication," his dad sighed. "They think there might be a contagion stuck inside your wound like that piece of chimera was in mine. Melissa is scheduling a procedure for them to go in deeper in the morning."

Stiles dragged his gaze up to his father's face, panic evident on his face. "Surgery? They want me to have surgery?!"

John laid a reassuring hand on Stiles's head. "Yeah, kiddo. They need to put you under so they can get into the wound deeper. It's a minor procedure. You'll be fine."

With his walls down because of the illness and pain, tears welled up in Stiles's eyes. "I just want to go home. Please, Dad, can't we just go home?"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Stiles," John leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together while keeping a hand on his head."It's okay. Shhhh."

He wrapped his other hand around his son's trembling body as Stiles sucked in shuddering breaths and cried his pain and frustration out. 

"It's going to be okay, Stiles. You're going to be just fine." He gently kissed Stiles on the forehead before running his hands through the teen's sweat soaked hair. "It's okay, kiddo. It's okay."

Stiles continued to cry for several more minutes before the tears began to slow. He gulped in shuddering breaths and tried to focus on the comforting words his dad was softly repeating. John sat back, keeping one hand on Stiles's arm and the other on his head.

When his son began to calm down, he pressed another kiss to his forehead. "It's been a rough couple of months, hasn't it, kid?" Stiles sniffled and looked at his dad before nodding and he continued. "I know you want to go home. I want you home too, but kiddo, you're very sick and in a lot of pain. They need to do this procedure so you can get better."

Stiles sighed a shaky breath and closed his eyes as a wave of pain in his shoulder ran through him. "O-o-kay," he whispered.

John was about to say something when the door quietly opened and Melissa came in. Stiles turned his head into the pillow to hide evidence of his breakdown and his dad straightened, keeping his hands on his arm and head.

"Hey, I just wanted to let you know, we have Stiles’s scheduled for his surgery at 5:30," she said softly, sensing that she had walked in on a bad moment for the teen. "So no food or drink after 9:30. I'll be back in probably an hour before to start getting him ready."

"Thanks, Melissa," John replied. The nurse gave him a small, reassuring smile and ducked back out. He looked back down at his son.

"See, it'll be over before you even know it," John soothed. "Now you still have a couple of hours before 9:30. Do you need anything?"

Stiles swallowed before answering. "Some water, please."

John poured water into the little paper cup sitting on the tray beside the pitcher before helping Stiles sit up so he can drink from it. He helped his son settle against the pillows, sitting up just enough to not be pressing against his shoulder. Stiles's hands shook as he sipped from the cup but he managed to drink without spilling any. He kept his eyes focused on his lap and John sighed inwardly. Stiles, whenever he was truly sick or injured, tended to go quiet and submissive. Add to his embarrassment over his breakdown, John recognized the signs of Stiles trying to disassociate from the whole situation. After a few minutes, he saw that his boy was done with his cup, so he gently lifted it from his hands and sat on the edge of the bed. Stiles refused to look at him and focused on his shaking fingers.

"Come here, kid." The Sheriff gently pulled the teen into his arms and hugged him tightly. It took Stiles a few seconds before he brought his uninjured arm up and gripped the back of his dad's shirt. He pressed his face hard into the familiar shoulder to prevent more tears and sighed deeply. John rubbed his back, avoiding his right shoulder and rocked him slightly. They stayed like that for several minutes before Stiles pulled back slightly. As he slumped against the pillows, his dad stood.

"You should get some rest, Stiles," he said softly.

His boy shook his head. "I slept all day. I'll probably sleep all day tomorrow."

John had to admit he was right even though he could see the lines of exhaustion on Stiles's face. "Then how about some tv? Take your mind off things?"

Stiles looked at him gratefully and while his dad turned on the small television, he adjusted himself so he could lay on his back without pressing on his shoulder. After searching through the channels, they finally settled on a show on the History channel. Neither were truly paying attention but the show provided enough distraction for them to settle and calm. An hour after they had turned on the tv, Stiles stealthily reached for his dad's hand that was resting on the bed. John didn't say anything other than a comforting squeeze.

It was just after 11:00 when John glanced over and saw Stiles had fallen asleep. The hand in his was limp and this breathing was slow and regular. Smiling gently, he let go of his son's hand and turned off the television. After watching him sleep for a while, he stood and pressed a kiss onto his forehead and then turned out the light on the nightstand, plunging the room into near darkness. He slipped back into the chair and dozed off himself.


	4. Chapter 4

John woke at the sound of the door clicking shut. Startled, he sat up straight and looked around. Melissa, looking tired, put a finger to her lips and nodded towards Stiles. He looked to his side and saw his boy still deeply asleep. He tiredly ran a hand over his face to wake up. Then, he stood to talk to the nurse.

"Everything okay?" he asked concerned.

"Yes. I just didn't want to wake him up yet," she replied softly. "Especially since he appears to be sleeping peacefully."

The Sheriff nodded and stretched. A glance at his watch told him it was just after 4:30 in the morning. He watched Melissa flit around the bed, taking his son's vitals down and adjusting the drip in the I.V. 

At his concerned look, she whispered, "Everything is stable. The orderlies will be in soon to bring him down but I wanted to check on his fever and vitals before they do. Everything go okay last night?"

"Yeah, he's just ready to go home. He had a little water not long after you came in and then, we watched tv until almost midnight."

She smoothed down some of his hair. "I think he was ready to go home the moment he got here. It'll be over soon though. This procedure will help with the pain and hopefully break his fever."

John went quiet for a moment, eyes focused on his son. He hated seeing his boy so sick and in so much pain. It reminded him too much of almost losing him to the Nogitsune. Stiles had spent a week after that night in the school in bed, shivering and sleeping nearly nonstop. It had taken them over two weeks to get his eating regulated and for him not to throw up nearly every meal.

"Do we need to do anything this morning before they take him?" he asked with a sigh.

Melissa smiled sympathetically and shook her head. "No. Let him sleep for right now. We'll wake him when we come to get him. The best thing for him right now is to let him rest. If he's awake, he'll work himself up." The Sheriff smiled. Melissa knew his son well.

A half hour later, John leaned over and put a hand to Stiles's hot cheek. "Stiles? Kiddo, it's time to get up."

Stiles tried to move away from his dad which only caused him to shift onto his shoulder. His eyes flew open and he whimpered as he curled into a ball. Hands reached out to touch him and a familiar calloused stroked his forehead.

"It's okay, Stiles. You're okay." His dad's voice filtered through the pain and he managed to look up at him. "Sorry, kid. I tried to stop you before you rolled onto it."

"I'm okay," he breathed out, swallowing down the bile. He looked around confusedly. There were two men setting up a gurney beside his bed. Melissa was standing next to his dad, tinkering with the machines and tubing leading to him. She disconnected him from most of the machines except the I.V.

"It's time for your procedure," John said, noticing what Stiles was seeing. "They wanted you awake before they give you the anesthesia."

"Oh," he uttered. He settled back onto the bed and watched distantly. His dad kept a comforting hand on his arm.

After several minutes, they moved Stiles from his hospital bed to the gurney letting him lay on his side to keep pressure off his shoulder. Melissa draped a blanket around him before hooking his I.V. onto a pole attached to the gurney. His dad came around and he reached for his hand. He was suddenly very nervous and he gripped John's hand tightly. It wasn't long before they rolled him out into the hallway. His dad stayed with them the whole way, holding his hand reassuringly, through the elevator down a few floors and along a twisting hallway. At a pair of swinging doors, the orderlies brought Stiles to a stop and John bent over.

"Alright, kiddo," he said, softly drawing his attention. "They won't let me go any further but I'll be right here waiting for you and I'll be here when you wake up, okay? Melissa will be with you the whole time."

Stiles gripped his hand tightly but nodded his agreement. They rolled him through the doors and his father's hand slipped from his own. To substitute, the teen gripped the thin sheet on the gurney in his fist and concentrated on regulating his breathing. As a result the next few minutes were a blur and then Melissa was leaning down, trying to gain his attention.

"Stiles? Hey, sweetie, we are about to administer the anesthesia. It's going to come through your I.V., okay?"

"Okay." Stiles managed to ground out.

Melissa reached for his hand gripping the sheet and squeezed it gently. "Just relax, Stiles. You'll blink and the next thing you know, you'll be back with your dad."

He nodded and went back to measuring his breathing. It was the only way he knew to keep calm. A woman he didn't know administered something into his I.V., then encouraged him to count backwards. Stiles closed his eyes and counted in time with his breaths. He trailed off in the 80s and wasn't aware of anymore.

 

* * *

 

The next time Stiles woke, he was barely aware of what was going on around him. Soft voices floated over him but he couldn't make sense of any of it and he made no efforts to discern words. He was comfortably warm and pain free, so he allowed himself to slip back into the darkness without ever opening his eyes.

This happened two more times. Each time Stiles simply shifted slightly on the bed before settling back into a deep, peaceful sleep, the kind of which he hadn't had in years. The next time he woke, a familiar hand was gently running through his hair and massaging into his scalp. His sedated mind struggled to supply the word attached to the movement. Dad. He recognized his dad's method of comfort. Feeling safe and secure, Stiles fell back asleep.

Hours later, Stiles slowly became more aware. The first thing he noticed was there was little pain. The near constant pain in his shoulder from the last few weeks was now a dull ache. The second thing he noticed was he didn't feel like he was going to throw up at a moment's notice or at any slight movement. Bolstered by these two big improvements in how he was feeling, the teen slowly opened his eyes. He only managed to open them a crack but it was enough to see around.

Sunshine managed to sneak in through the tightly closed blinds, shining on the floor. The lights were off but it must have been mid-day because while it was dark, the room wasn't pitch dark. He was laying on his back the blankets pulled up to his chest. He blinked a couple of times to clear his eyes and sleepily looked around. His dad was slumped asleep in a chair beside the bed, looking exhausted. A movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to turn his head away from him. An older, unfamiliar nurse was checking his vitals. When she saw he was watching her, she smiled warmly at him.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly so his dad didn't awaken. "Do you need anything?"

Stiles blinked slowly and shook his head. He could feel sleep pulling at him again. The nurse seemed to understand because she urged him to go back to sleep. Stiles let his eyes slide close without a protest and sank deeper into his pillows. He was asleep within moments.

Soft voices talking woke him a few hours later. As Stiles climbed his way back into consciousness, he first recognized his dad's voice first. The familiar timber sounded relieved making him wonder what had happened. It took another few minutes for the teen to realize that his dad was talking to Dr. Geyer and Melissa. Finally, words began to seep through the sleepy haze he still found himself under and he could hear what they were talking about.

"Right now, we are very optimistic," the doctor was saying. "His wound already looks far better now then it did this morning. The inflammation has gone down as well as the redness. It doesn't seem to be refilling. The fever is holding steady at 101.9. I think we finally got the contagion flushed out."

"Thank God," John said. "So he's going to be okay?"

"It certainly looks that way. We, of course, will continue to monitor him and he will continue to receive antibiotics, but it looks like he is well on his way to recovery."

Stiles felt a hand on his leg and his father asked "How long will he be asleep? Is it normal for him to be out this long after the surgery?"

This time Melissa answered. "It shouldn't be too much longer. Stiles is exhausted and now that his body wasn't fighting off the infection, he was able to sleep in a way he probably hadn't in weeks."

"Melissa is right, Sheriff," Geyer spoke up. "The anesthesia should have worn off a couple of hours after we finished, but it is completely normal for a person as sick as Stiles is to sleep longer. He will wake up when he's ready."

The adults talked for a little longer about what to expect during Stiles's recovery and he almost fell back asleep. Finally, the doctor and the nurse left and his father returned to his bedside. Stiles felt a gentle hand on his forehead and turned his head into the cool hand.

"Stiles?" John asked softly. He massaged his thumb into the boy's temple and Stiles let out a soft sigh. Slowly he managed to open his eyes and focused them on his father.

"Hi, Dad," he whispered. He swallowed hard and realized how dry his throat was. 

"Hey, kid. How are you feeling?" John almost couldn't keep the relief out of his voice to see his son awake.

He managed to shrug slightly. "Okay. Sleepy." He closed his eyes, then after a moment got them open again. "Everything okay?"

His dad smiled softly at him and nodded. "Yeah, everything's good. Your fever has come down. Your wound seems to be healing and now you're awake. Everything's okay."

"Hmmm" was Stiles's response. He closed his eyes before opening them wider. Using his elbows, he made the effort to push him up further into a sitting position. His dad helped him adjust the bed and settled him back against the pillows.

"Better?" John asked, watching his son's face for any strain or pain. 

He nodded and then asked for some water. He only managed to drink half of the little cup but it apparently satisfied his dad. He leaned back against the pillows and sighed. "What happened?"

His dad had sat back into the chair beside his bed and looked at his son questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"With the procedure. Did everything go okay? Will I live?" 

John smiled at Stiles's attempt at a little humor. "Yes, seems like you will. They think they got whatever was stuck in your wound out. They cleaned it out and stitched you up. It seems to be healing finally."

Stiles sighed and absently rubbed lightly at his shoulder. He was relieved when he felt little pain. His dad reached over and pulled his hand down.

"You have 10 stitches, kid. It's probably not a good idea to rub at it right now." 

Stiles dropped his hands into his lap. He looked around. "What time is it?"

John checked the time on his phone. "It's almost 4 in the afternoon. Are you hungry? You haven't eaten anything in two days at least. If I know you, it's probably been longer."

"No, I'm okay. I'm not really hungry," Stiles said, looking a little green.

His dad thought about pressing the issue but he could see his son was still tired and sick. Relief at seeing his boy awake and not as out of it as he had been, John suddenly stood and wrapped his arms around the teen. Stiles froze for a moment in surprise but hugged his dad back. He pressed his face into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he found himself muttering.

A hand rubbed the back of his head. "For what, kiddo?"

They broke apart and John sat on the edge of the bed. Stiles looked at his hands. "For this. For letting the wound get this bad. For Donovan. For just everything."

John shook his head. "Kid, you carry too much guilt. I will tell you again. Hell, I'll tell you everyday for the rest of my life. Donovan was not your fault. It was self-defense. As for the wound...you were a little distracted and I should have made sure you were okay." Stiles looked at him, mouth open and ready to protest. He held up a hand. "You told me he had attacked you and I didn't think to check you for injuries. I also knew you weren't feeling well the other day. I should have pressed instead of letting you side step."

Stiles looked at his fingers and sighed. "I should have told you it was hurting worse. I made the effort to avoid you and to go to school too."

John reached over and put his hand over his son's fingers. "I'll tell you what. We'll call this one both of our faults, deal?"

"Can we even do that?"

"Stiles, you of all people should know by now that things aren't always one person's fault. In fact, usually, there's always something that someone else could have done to help or change the situation. A parent pushes an issue. A teen tries not to hide something that is hurting him. A friend listens instead of assuming the worse." Stiles's breath caught in his throat at those words and John squeezed his hands. "This one is on both of us, deal?"

The teen looked up at his dad, processing his words, and after several minutes, finally nodded. "Deal." He paused, looking at his hands covered by his dad's before giving a small, mischievous smile. "So since it looks like I'm better, can I go home and sleep for a week now?"

John couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. "Soon, kid. Soon."


	5. Chapter 5

Two days later, John drove Stiles home. The teen looked relieved when they pulled into their driveway. His jeep sat in his spot, parked by Scott who had apparently brought the keys to his dad while he had been deeply asleep that first day. The werewolf hadn't been by since, or at least whenever Stiles was awake. If he had come by any other time, his dad and Melissa weren't mentioning it. Of course, he hadn't asked either. He couldn’t help but be still hurt that Scott hadn't believed him but beneath the hurt he was thankful the other teen was still looking out for him. Maybe it was time to sit down and have a long talk with his lifelong best friend.

John helped his son into the house. Stiles was still a little weak and shaky from his illness. After his surgery, he had ended up sleeping through most of the next day and his fever officially broke that night while he was sleeping. Dr. Geyer had told his dad the constant sleeping was due to the exhaustion and the lack of decent sleep Stiles had been suffering from the past several weeks. His shoulder was now healing nicely, the pain only a dull ache, but the infection had taken a toll. He had barely been able to eat, though they made him try a light dinner after his surgery. He had only been able to eat half of it but it apparently was enough for his dad and doctor. They made sure he ate something at every meal time no matter how little it really was. Otherwise, they wouldn't of let him go home. At least, that's what Melissa had kept threatening.

Inside the house, Stiles stretched out onto his bed. He was under strict instructions to take it easy for at lease two more days. No school, no lifting, no physical activity. In other words, he had the doctor's permission to sleep for a week. Ok, technically, at least two days but still, he fully intended to hold his dad to his promise. As he laid down onto his comfortable bed and sank onto his familiar pillows, he couldn't help but to sigh happily earning a chuckle from his dad who folded the covers over him.

"Comfortable?" he asked with a laugh.

"Hmmm, very," Stiles responded. He felt a hand run through his hair and opened one eye.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, kiddo," John said softly. "No more scaring your old man like that. At least for awhile, okay?" 

"Okay, Dad," Stiles promised, sincerely. He had pulled away so much after Donavan, it had been nice to have his father stay with him while he was sick and to have that relationship back.

His dad smiled and squeezed his uninjured shoulder before leaving the room and leaving the teen to his bed. Stiles shifted to a more comfortable position on his side and looked around his room. It was early afternoon, so the sun was shining in through the windows lighting on the messiness that was his room. His eyes fell on the board he had gotten to keep track of their mysteries instead of using the walls though he still used those as well. The big mystery right down was what was the big beast that had killed already and its link to the Dread Doctors. Stiles closed his eyes against it. He was still pretty tired and didn't want to think about the insanity involving the Dread Doctors and chimeras and Theo. Especially Theo. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet being sick had given him.

He must have dozed off without realizing it because the next thing he knew was there was a knock on the door. Sleepily, he turned his head into his pillow before looking up at the doorway. The room was now bathed in the golden light of the sun setting and Stiles had to rub his eyes to clear his eyesight. As his vision cleared, he saw his dad standing in the doorway.

"Hey, kiddo," he said. "If you're feeling up to it, Scott is here."

Stiles pushed himself up and turned over so he was leaning against his pillows and his headboard. He was still a little drowsy but he nodded at his dad who motioned to someone in the hallway. He rubbed his eyes again as his father disappeared and Scott appeared nervously in the doorway.

"Hey," the werewolf said.

"Hey," Stiles replied.

Still uncertain, Scott took two steps into the room. Stiles noticed he had his bookbag slung over his shoulder. "Um, your dad said you had a rough week and will probably be out for another week, so I, uh, brought your make up work."

"Thanks," Stiles replied, taking the bag from him. He chewed on his lip. He didn't know what to say. Apparently neither did Scott.

"So, um, how are you doing?" Scott asked nervously.

Stiles's hand went up to his shoulder, rubbing absently at the bandage. He was supposed to go back in a week to have the stitches removed. "Better. Dr. Geyer said it was a piece of looked like a piece of fabric got stuck in the bite. Once they finally got that removed, it finally started to heal."

"That's good. You were pretty sick that day at school." The werewolf stuck his hands in his pockets. After a pause, he rushed out "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I should've at least heard your side of the story and I didn't even give you the benefit of doubt. I just assumed the worst and you're my best friend and I should have known better."

Stiles looked at him, startled. Scott looked at the floor and was panting slightly as he has said everything on one long breath. He stared at Scott for a long time. He had so many conflicting emotions. On one hand, he was still hurt. Scott's opinion had always been second only to his dad's. For Scott to think he was some kind of murdering monster had cut him down to the core. It had made him fear telling his dad and he had debated all night which had almost cost him his only parent. On the other hand, Scott had spent much of the past week trying to talk to him, trying to make up for it. Plus, he had tried to help Stiles figure out what was killing his dad and just a few days had tried to help him when he was sick.

He took a deep breath. "It's okay. I should have told you, and my dad, instead of trying to hide it. I was too scared and ashamed."

Scott looked up and said softly "I would have understood. I mean, I know what self-defense is. The story Theo told me was murder but what your dad told me...that was self-defense."

"I guess by trying to hide it, I didn't really give you any reason to believe me or believe it wasn't an accident, did I?"

"Even if it wasn't, he was threatening your dad. I should have know when you said that..." Scott sighed. "It's just one big mess, isn't it?"

Stiles nodded and rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, it is."

The two teens went silent, neither looking at the other. Finally Scott said softly "I should go. Let you get some rest."

He was at the door when Stiles finally spoke. "Thanks, Scott, for bringing my jeep home and bringing me my make up work."

He looked over his shoulder and gave his longtime friend a shy, small smile before leaving.

An hour later, Stiles laid in bed staring at the ceiling. It was now dark in his room. He hadn't even bothered to turn on the lamp beside his bed. He was resting his head on one hand, the other laying on his chest. He was completely lost in thought and didn't even notice when John leaned against his doorway.

"Hey." Stiles started slightly and lifted his head to look at his dad. "You okay?"

The teen nodded and pushed himself up. "I think so. Just thinking."

John came into the room and turned on the lamp. Stiles blinked rapidly at the sudden light and completely sat up, wrapping his arms around his legs and looked at his dad as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Stiles sighed. "I don't know what to do or what to think really."

"What do you mean, kid?"

"I think I've forgiven Scott for not believing me but it still hurts. I keep seeing his face when he handed me the wrench and when he stepped back like he was afraid I was going to hit him. It still hurts."

"Forgiving doesn't always make the hurt magically go away, Stiles. It takes time."

"What do I do in the meantime?"

"Rebuild your friendship. There's this beast, right? That you told me about?" When Stiles nodded, he continued. "Work together to figure it out. It won't go back to the way it was before but if the two of you truly want to, you can rebuild your friendship and possibly make it stronger." He took a good look at his son. "Also, work on taking care of yourself. Heal. Rest. Forgive yourself for Donovan. And know that no matter what, I love you and I will always love you."

Stiles gave his dad a watery, uncertain grin.

"It'll get better. Just take it one day at a time, okay?" John reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

"Okay, Dad."

"Good." He stood and stretched. "Now how about some dinner?"

Stiles snorted. "I don't have much of a say in this, do I?"

"Not really. I have no doubt that Melissa will make you do a feeding tube if you lose anymore weight." Stiles nodded his agreement and John ruffled his hair. "It's gets better, kid. I promise. Just one day at a time."

His dad left to go make the light dinner he knew his son would be able to keep down. Stiles stared for a long moment at his bed before looking at his board again. His eyes fell on Theo's name and the words 'The Beast'. The longer he stared the more focus he became. He would figure this out. He would help Lydia get out of Eichen House. He would figure out Theo's ultimate plan with the chimeras and the Dread Doctors. And he would figure out what or who the Beast was. Nobody tries to hurt his family and gets away with it. Nobody.


End file.
